Cinderella�s revenge
2001-06-14 - 10:22 p.m.
Do *these* eyes look hollow to you? Because, if you look long enough, you�re sure to See that everyone�s eyes look similarly hollow.
Step-mother has a little white freaky mop/dog (I believe I have mentioned this before). Sarah and I dyed it pink with Kool-Aid (TM). We used Step-mother�s special towel to dry the beastie off and then folded it back up [into the place where we keep towels...the towel corral, if you will]. Step-mother is due to arrive tomorrow, from Boston.
Sarah and I spent the majority of the remainder of the day talking in high-pitched voices, accidentally forming our own morbid children�s show. There were lots of mentions of Pajamatrons (pajama dinosaurs that live under your bed and eat fish heads), and how everyone is a wheel, and wheels make the world turn, and something about effort being a good thing (especially if it�s used to annoy your parents). �And remember kids, �screw you� is the grown-up way to say hello.�
Wholly lack of internet Batman. It seems as though the rate limit for Audiogalaxy And ICQ have been exceeded. This may go down as a momentous day of recorded history...the first day of the bogged server scare. The people with the internet services will leave their machines on all the time, selfishly hoarding them from the people who do not get the services, because everyone else is bogging down the servers. Friends will go to each other�s houses to talk, instead of using ICQ, because they can�t get it to connect at their house.
Expert: Someone who used to be a pert, but has since been unpertified of their pertive status.
On the �Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory� movie, before the song �The Candy Man� the candy-seller guy says �...my dear boy, do you ask a fish how it swims? Or a bird how it flies? No siree you don�t. They do it because they were born to do it, just like Willy Wonka was born to be a candy man...� It is exactly this type of old-fashioned ant-hill psychology* (ant-hill psychology: referring to either the binary minds of ants, or the belief that one is born either a �worker� or a �warrior� at birth.) that siCens me.
Sarah is a Optimistic Romantic. She was whining today about having to �start the training process all over again� because she got a new boyfriend. It�s the little things that she tells him to do, such as reciting every line of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Rapp at spontaneous intervals...he at least has to know every line of every Disney movie ever made, or he�ll just have to go back to first grade and learn them all over. She expects him to say the cutest, most romantic thing that she can think of...he has to learn to kiss her before he leaves to go into the next room. She makes it into the �Romantic� phylum because she can appreciate the world, in all it�s beauty. But she is optimistic in her belief that the whole world knows her as well as I do, and will meet her every demand of quirky sayings.
In contrast, I am a Pessimistic Romantic. I do not expect everyone to be able to recite lines from Disney movies any more than I expect them to be able to recite the last 13 articles of the US Constitution (TM). When someone does do something that is the absolutely-cutest-thing-ever, I�m surprised/pleased...but I don�t make an effort to condition that person�s responses to tailor-make my own personalized friend. I am included in the �Romantic� phylum because I see the world for what it is, and think that it was wonderful even before I was born.
Laura is...I�m not quite sure. She introduces herself as: �Just so you know, I�m not really stoopid. I just act like it ALL the time.�
They says thet Rapunzel was a girl, a girl in a tower. The tower, it had no doors, and only one window, through which her �mother� would climb, using her hair as a rope. This leaves many questions to be answered...most simply: �where did she goto the bathroom?� I suspose she could have used a chamber-pot, and then dumped it out her window...but then, wouldn�t the witch have to wade through her shyt to get to the tower? If I were a prince, would I really ford a puddle of princess feces to climb her golden hair? And then there remains the �entrapment� of the girl� in such a tower, when she could have tied her hair to her bedpost, and cut it off when she reached the ground...The construction of the tower itself is enough to make a scientific mind queasy; structurally, the area under the princess would have had to be solid stone, and to avoid the prince�s ability to climb the walls with a pair of hand-held hay-hooks. Here may be a more accurate account of the fairy tale...
Once, long ago, long before tambourines and rocketship underwear, there lived a princess. A blonde, no less. She was kidnapped at a young age by a black-haired witch, who pretended to be her real mother (oddly enough, the princess never seemed to notice this genetic difference). The witch kept the princess in a suite at the top a tower, with only one window and a primitive water closet. And so it was that when the princess reached The Age of Hornyness (TM), she began to draw in princes from all over the country. Because the witch had meetings to attend to during the day, she purchased a gay man in the village square to guard the tower from dumb horny guys. Each day, while the gay man was not busy killing or chasing off potential suitors, the princess would talk to him. Occasionally, she would even tie her long hair to the bedpost and repel down the side of the tower to talk with the gay man. On a particularly prince-free day, the gay man scaled the wall of the tower to have a tickle war on the princess� bed. While he was there, the witch came back for a daily check-up on her stolen daughter. Having nowhere else to hide, the gay man stood in the water closet while the witch gave the princess some extra food and personal items. Understandably, the two had had enough of this running around...in the morning, before the witch was to arrive again, the princess packed up a few bags of luggage and repelled down the side of the tower for the last time. But just as they were ready to escape, the princess realized that her hair was still tied to the bedpost. Without time to have the gay man climb up and untie the hair, she grabbed her machete and chopped it off. So appalled was the gay man by her new fashion statement that he gouged out his own eyes in terror. Slowly, they made their way through the surrounding woods, and started a life of their own...but it only gets more confusing from there, because the princess desperately wanted to have children...
